


go with your heart (1989-1998)

by swannkings



Series: Portrait of Imogen Swift [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hogwarts Mystery
Genre: Bittersweet, F/M, Jealousy, Legilimency, Mutual Pining, Quidditch, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 13:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17747123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swannkings/pseuds/swannkings
Summary: It's something Arthur Weasley told his children when they couldn't make up their minds: go with your heart. Charlie has always known dragonology is in his bones, but maybe that passion has come in the way of seeing other opportunities for a happy ending.





	go with your heart (1989-1998)

**Author's Note:**

> After learning the MC is a Legilimens and playing through those following chapters, I found it hard to believe they'd be so open about having the ability to interpret others' thoughts and even plant them. So, here is Imogen as a very worried Legilimens.

“It’s easier than you think,” said Jae. “So long as you have the right trade.”

“After that Alistair fellow, doesn’t seem a good idea,” said Charlie.

“She’s not focusing,” said Andre, intently watching the Slytherin quidditch team swoop and bolt above the pitch. “She keeps fumbling the quaffle.”

“Should you two even be here?” asked Jae. “Isn’t there some kind of rule between rival teams?”

The three of them had come to wait in the stands of the quidditch pitch for Imogen to finish practice. It was a pleasant day, the early autumnal breeze more enjoyable than the gloom of the library or great hall.

“They should be happy to have me,” replied Andre.

“I’m a prefect,” answered Charlie.

“Blimey!”

Andre shot up from his seat blocking the sun from his eyes as he watched the commotion above. Charlie and Jae followed suit as soon as the shouting started. Up in the air the players had stopped to hover around two teammates -- a chaser and a beater, Imogen and a boy called Lee Smyth. After a few more words, the two dropped quickly back to the ground, tossing their brooms aside.

“You could have bloody killed me!” shouted Imogen, shoving the taller boy.

He shoved her back. “It wouldn’t have happened if you’d watch where you’re going!”

Before the captain could intervene, Imogen took two steps forward and tackled Smyth to the ground with a heavy _thud_. Andre and Charlie jumped the last two rows of seats to get down the steps to the pitch where the team had circled around the brawl, some trying to call them off and others egging them on.

“Break it up! Break it up!” the captain called, entering the circle. Charlie and Andre pushed through just as Imogen landed a punch to Smyth’s nose and the air filled with a chorus of ‘ _Oooo_!’ The captain yanked Imogen up by the arm and pulled her back. One of her barrettes had been ripped from her hair and her lip was bleeding. Smyth still lay on the grass, cupping his nose. “You’re done; both of you.”

Imogen looked close to tears.

“Imogen….” Charlie reached for her shoulder, but she brushed him off. The team parted to let her through. She grabbed up her broomstick and stalked off toward the locker rooms.

“Check your girlfriend, mate,” Smyth sneered, blood trickling through his fingers.

“Sod off, Smyth,” Andre shot.

Madam Hooch was alerted to the altercation, as were Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore. Liz said Imogen had been given another month’s worth of detention, lost 50 house points, and was suspended from playing quidditch for the rest of the term. Charlie hadn’t seen her for nearly two days before she finally showed up in Care of Magical Creatures.

“She’s been really down,” Rowan had said. “Maybe don’t bring up quidditch.”

Imogen didn’t say much at all that day. She kept to herself most of class, not acknowledging Merula’s snipes, only answering Kettleburn’s questions when called upon. As they gathered up their belongings at the end of hour, Imogen held back beside Charlie while everyone else cleared the paddock. She stood, adjusting the strap of her bag, looking everywhere but at him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “For the other day. Thank you for trying to help.”

Charlie took a moment to process her words around a flutter in his chest. “Yeah, anytime.”

He groaned inwardly. They hadn’t spoken in days, and he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her until that moment, and all he mustered to say was ‘ _yeah_?’ Pitiful. They began a slow trek back to the castle.

“Did Smyth apologize?”

She met his eyes, finally. For a fleeting moment he could see sadness welling up in them, before promptly glossing over to something colder.

“If it could be called that. He’s in the same boat as me, so maybe it doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does.”

Imogen wet her lips as if she was going to speak, and then bit down, bottling whatever it was back up. They went along the path a little ways more, silently, the sound of first years getting thwacked by their broomsticks echoing across the training grounds.

“Charlie,” Imogen started, then faltered. They stopped. She bit the inside of her cheek and tried again. “Charlie, I’ve been taking Occlumency lessons.”

“Oh. Congratulations?” He was confused.

She took a breath. “I’ve been taking Occlumency lessons because after last Christmas I learned I’m a Legilimens, and apparently all those visions I’ve been having might actually be my brother contacting me. And Professor Dumbledore thinks it’s a good idea if I can protect myself.”

“Oh.” This was a lot.

“That’s why I spaced out at practice. It’s been a lot to deal with.” She sighed. “Do you hate me?”

He stared.

“Why would I?”

“Because I kept it secret. The Legilimens part.” She turned to face him fully, desperation in her voice. “I promise I’ve never read your mind.”

“I could never hate you.” His heart skipped a beat. The little crease between her eyes relaxed, her jaw softened, and she sighed.

“I’m sorry.”

Charlie shook his head. “You shouldn’t be, he could’ve killed you.

Imogen smiled and let out a short laugh, wincing as her bruised lip stretched. She took his arm in hers and they walked back to the castle for lunch. For the next month Charlie abused his prefect privileges to meet Imogen after her evening detention and sneak her desserts from the kitchens, and every Saturday until the end of term they met up on the training grounds to practice quidditch outside of the pitch.


End file.
